The Analyst
by The Archimedes Complex
Summary: There's a reason why they never look in the briefcase... A potential TF2 backstory with a hint of adversity. Medic and Scout.


They were so close. The air around them hummed with the electric tingle of imminent victory as the fast fading bellows and screams of the enemy lingered behind them

Medic knew this was the linchpin of the operation, from here it could go one of two ways: a brilliant success or a brutal defeat. It had taken weeks of careful preparation simply to get where they were now, charging through the base with the RED's at their heels. They just had to make it to the Intelligence Room, it wasn't far but as the biting of his lungs pleaded for more air his body began to slow. With his legs burning and his breath giving way to laboured gasps he could feel his whole body giving in to the strain he had put it under. Charging around another corner he reluctantly came to a halt, bending over to try and regain the energy that the last few days had sapped from him.

"Fess..." he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Doc!' The Scout he had been following skidded to a stop and doubled back, his face an indeterminate mix of frustration and fear. "Doc! Come on old man, we gotta go!"

"Keep going... Get zhe briefcase to Intelligence... I vill catch up..." Scout looked at him hesitantly, his words made sense but Medic knew this boy was loyal. Loyalty wasn't what they needed right now.

"SCHNELL!" He barked. As if a whip had struck him Scout bolted away. Through his gasps his eyes fixed on the Red briefcase strapped to the Scout's back, but as the boy pumped his arms with a vigorous piston like quality he sprinted forward with an energy that even science couldn't explain and disappeared off down into the labyrinth of the base.

What he would give to be young again.

Eventually calming the fire in his lungs he pressed on, with any luck Scout would have already reached the capture point. All that would be left to do was decipher the enemy Intel and report back, they could be out of here by the end of the day.

The very idea of freedom fuelled him on.

With a pathetic excuse of a jog he wound through the corridors until he caught sight of a door that was emblazed with the beautiful bold letters spelling 'Briefcase Room.' He'd made it.

Bursting in he wiped the sweat out of his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Scout?" He had expected to see the boy surrounded by papers on the desk trying his best to sort through them with a hand on the telephone, ready to dial headquarters at a moments notice.

But the briefcase was discarded on the floor before him; Scout was huddled behind the desk with his cap in hand. "Scout, vas ist los?"

Without looking at him the boy stepped aside to reveal a figure draped in the chair. Her body hung in an unnatural position, she was slumped carelessly back in the chair with a paleness tingeing at the curves of her face. The usually vivid blue eyes were cast lifelessly up at the ceiling, blood oozed from the cusp of her open lips to join the cascade that had flowed from the gash that had been torn across her throat.

"They... They got her. They got Analyst."

The words tripped over an evident lump in his throat, his statement pulled at Medics chest as if an invisible hand had wrapped around his heart and crushed it.

This wasn't happening.

"Nein." Springing forward he clutched desperately at her wrist, fumbling about the lifeless limb for a pulse, begging to feel even the faintest throb of a still beating heart. He felt nothing except the cold that emanated from her. "Nein, sie kann nicht..." His hands smeared the blood on her gaping neck as he pushed his fingers desperately against her jugular. Her dead eyed stare refused to meet his gaze, absent of the life and passion that had once blazed behind it.

She was gone. She was really gone.

"NEIN!" He screamed. He raised a clenched fist to his forehead and tried to control himself, the rift of fury tearing open inside him refusing to be sealed.

She had been their advantage, within seconds of presenting her with a briefcase she could have broken the code and rifled through the information with the acute decoder that was her mind. She'd been the only one who had even a chance at deciphering what lay in that briefcase, having dedicated her life to the rules and systems of the cipher patterns that BLU used. But now..

"There's something in her hand." Scout's mumble only just penetrated his despondency, reaching forward the boy picked up a small metal reorder that dangled from her wrist, a little red light blinked back at them. He turned the device over in his hands and pressed at a button.

"-taken the base. The barricades aren't holding but we've managed to move the briefcase to another secure location. I'm not sure if-" The crackle of her voice penetrated the silence when suddenly the rattle of a gunshot pierced through her sentence."-Oh my god. Commander! Commander can you hear me? Commander!... Commander is down. How did they... Spy! There's a Spy in the base... I can't see him. He's cloaked..."

They listened as the microphone was scratched and rustled, her breaths were short and filled with panic but suddenly they became calm and steady, accompanied by the soft crunch of the chairs leather. "I don't know where he is. But he's in here... I won't run... I know how this ends...

Dell, if you ever hear this then know it was my pleasure to work along side you... Mundy, I know you're going to be the best shot in the outback for a long time to come... Heavy, I left a blueprint for you in the top draw, for your sandwiches..." Medic could almost hear the smile in her voice... "...Scout, you're a good kid, just try and stay out of trouble alright? Doctor... Doctor I never got to tell you how I-'

"A touching memoir mademoiselle, but I do not have all day." The heavy French accent trickled through the speakers. Medic felt his stomach turn as if his rage had suddenly turned into a molten lump of iron in his gut.

She didn't cry out, or scream, or struggle. She simply took a deep breath.

"Make it quick." Even through the speakers it was said with the authority of an order of the highest command.

"You know that's not my style."

There was a few moments of silence before the gut wrenching sound of skin splitting and blood bubbling with the air resonated through the speakers. They could hear her chocking, the harrowing sound of her gargled breaths in the blood she was drowning in echoed about the room. It was too much.

"Enough." Medic removed his glasses and wiped at is brow, but Scout just stood transfixed by the sounds of her choking, staring limply at her body. "Enough Scout."

Slowly the gagging stopped, she let out one last blood soaked breath and then the recording fell silent, crackling arbitrarily into nothing more than white noise.

Tapping helplessly at another of the recorders buttons Scout silenced the noise and cast a look over to the briefcase.

"What do we do now?"

That was the question to which Medic had no answer. Without her they wouldn't know if the Intelligence they had risked their lives to retrieve was even relevant to their cause. Without her, it was all for nothing.

Consumed by rage Medic marched over to the briefcase and kicked it as hard as he could, releasing a harrowing scream that brought him to his knees.

"ES IST NUTZLOS!"

He had been so ready to leave this base, so ready to return to Stuttgart and write off his contract with Mann Co, but until the Intel could be interpreted and relayed that wasn't going to happen.

They'd need another analyst, one who was competent enough to understand the ever-changing RED codes, one who wouldn't fail under pressure, one who would agree to work exclusively for Mann Co...

They had been so close.


End file.
